You must be eager to begin, so let’s not waste time with introductions.
Here is one of my most used traffic intersections. Because this is an intersection of a Dutch city, in addition to sidewalks and roads there is also a canal, cycling paths and tram lines. A true citizen of the world, I have been a walker, a tram passenger, and a driver on this intersection but I think the most interesting view is that of the cyclist, who must make more complex decisions than a driver, but goes just fast enough to still have to think quite quickly.
Paths A🚲, B🚲, and C🚲 were recently normal roads, but have since turned into bicycle streets where the motto is “auto te gast” (car is a guest). The accompanying signage shows a car in its new place in nature, stuck behind a bicycle, a reversal of fortune. This reversal strengthens each year as cycling lanes take root, first gaining dedicated maroon asphalt, then a solid curb separating them from the car traffic, and in some cases growing to the width of the whole road, as in the case of these roads.
Some drivers try to pretend nothing has changed and that they are still the masters of this domain, revving their engines behind you, or worse, driving at speed towards you, expecting you to move aside. I move out of the way of course, but not without casting a disapproving look that they I’m sure they recollect later with some remorse.
Previously I would use Road D to leave and return towards home, but since Path A🚲 has become a bicycle street I’ve abandoned it completely. Road D🚗’s attraction has faded since we no longer worry about cars regularly racing up behind us on Path A🚲. Now we can enjoy the smell of the trees, and look at the humble houseboats that have none of the self-importance of the houses with painted facades on Road D🚗.
Though my allegiances have changed, going to the city centre my goal is still the same: Path B🚲. Sadly neither Road D🚗 or Path A🚲 offer a truly mindless way to it.
The old way, from Road D🚗: You either have to face the indignity of crossing the road only to wait for another light, or you can gamble and make a straight cut across the crossing but then taking an awkward angle onto the adjacent cycle path.
The new way, from Path A🚲: First you intersect with cycling path E🚲 where no-one knows what the order of priority is: do they give way because you’re coming from the right, or do you give way because you’re coming off of an exit? Then you cross Road F🚗, reaching an island just before Tramlines G🚋 and H🚋. Once you’ve made it across those, you reach another island before Road I🚗, and now you must make the completely unnatural move of turning right onto cycling path J🚲, which is bidirectional for about five metres — here you probably stutter and start also because of pedestrians coming off of the tram, who have no reason to expect cyclists coming from the other direction. Finally you turn onto path B🚲, which is something of a tight turn.
The description of the new way may make you think the old way was simpler. But the lack of detail in my description of the old way simply reveals its vagueness. With the new way, the intersections between each path - bike by bike, bike by car, bike by tram, bike by car, and bike by bike again, are all telegraphed, whereas the old way was simply a shot in the dark.
Finally, road Y🚗 is a mystery to all of us. It has been there as long as I remember but no one knows what this thirty metre stretch is for. Did they begin to build the road, only to realise it was all wrong, and try to hide their mistake by reconnecting to Path A🚲? Sometimes I go down it on a whim.
Now that intersection might make you think that everything is very stacked in favour of cyclists, which is true in many places. But there are exceptions. If we follow this canal towards the sea, we come to another intersection where either through neglect or malevolence a sort of vortex has been formed.
Let’s approach it as though we are returning from a day at the beach, from cycling path K🚲. This is a long, sweeping path that allows half your mind to wander off in daydreams, possibly with the smell of herring still on your breath, leaving you completely disarmed and unprepared for the intersection to come. Our goal is cycling path L🚲.
To reach it, we first cross road M and take a sharp right on cycling path N🚲, which sometimes cyclists coming in the opposing direction don’t expect. Then we reach the T junction (💥) where paths L🚲 and and N🚲 meet.
Now, I hate to speculate, but the timings of the traffic lights on this intersection seem to have been designed to make the cyclists crossing from path K and path O🚲 meet at this T junction (💥) at the same time, so that two streams of cyclists from path M🚲 and path L🚲 wish to both turn onto path L🚲 and also pass it. You have cyclists trying to turn quickly onto path L🚲, not wishing to block the cyclists behind them; and cyclists from path O🚲 wishing to simply carry on, being suddenly blocked by someone swerving onto path L🚲.
That’s not even mentioning there are cyclists coming off of path L🚲 too, and here is where the most devious aspect of this T-junction (💥) reveals itself: a wall and dense greenery completely block the view of path L🚲, so that you do not know if someone is about to ride onto the junction from path L🚲 until you are on the junction yourself. This is especially bad for pedestrians on pavement P🚶♀️, who can walk straight onto path L🚲 without knowing if they are stepping into the path of a cyclist.
The recent renovation to road M🚗 (to turn it from a dual carriageway to a single carriageway)and its subsequent closure means that this junction is more busy than ever, and all through the summer too (!), where we have tourists — many of them bicycle novices — cycling to and from the beach.
It must be great fun to watch as a seagull, flying far above.
Sam Gwilym, 7th of September, 2018